Lined up on the center line, ready for departure, runway one-three. I am on my way to see my favorite two people on the earth who, by the way, celebrated their 57th wedding anniversary on the 12th. I have already pointed out to them that this represents one hundred and fourteen years of marriage experience between them. And there's been a lot between them in that time.
Gee, I don't know. There's just something about being nearly two miles above the ground and all that view that goes with it, and maybe just a little bit, it's the being able to go over 150 miles an hour (legally), in a straight line, with no traffic. Just maybe.
Level cruise at 9,500 feet, the Columbia River looking toward Astoria in the fog.
Orcas is the largest of the San Juans. There it is in the way far away with the two humps.
If you biggen this one, you will see the cut in the trees that is the runway.
On the approach to the small airstrip on the island, Mt. Baker. God's tooth...
The runway is listed as 1,600 ft on the AirNav website (identifier: 78WA). 1,600 feet. Rrrrrrriiiiiggghhhht.....
My sister Karen, my Mom and friend Mary waiting for me to disembark.
Three minutes past midnight. I love my picturer.
Mr. Gawpo, Sr and I put each of our shadows on a tree off the back deck and took time exposures. This was near midnight. FREEZE!
This is what I woke up to this morning. Actually, it was the pileated woodpecker that woke me, but I couldn't get the picturer out in time. There was plenty 'o time for this, though.
Mr. Gawpo, Sr. upon returning from the crabbing and shrimping venture.
Fresh Dungies...
Dinner:
Please join me in wishing my father a very happy 78th. He doesn't look a day past 77.
